Page 18

“Of course, it would be bad,” Mother says, sounding absolutely appalled that Chloe would even ask a question like that.
Father adds on, “I wouldn’t trust a gay to watch my back. I’d prefer a real man to do the job, and I’m sure Maximus will feel the same.”
Fear hits me like a brick wall and I’m frozen to the spot. If Father has this conversation with Maximus, he might refuse to hire Miles. Marcus has made it clear for a while that he wantsMiles to be his bodyguard, and he’s unofficially been doing the job for a while.
Maximus arranged for Miles to be trained by his men, with the intention of Miles taking on the full-time role when we finish university. But if Father has this discussion with Maximus, it might ruin Miles’ future.
I need to think fast, to put this right, but panic is setting in, and my brain is moving at sloth-like speed.
Mother agrees with Father’s statement, sounding appalled as she says, “It would be social suicide for you to be hanging out with a poofter. They go against everything nature intended, and I’d hate for you to lose a good marriage prospect, simply because they’ve judged you for your incorrect choice of friends.”
“It absolutely is a sin.” My father sounds much more righteous than he has any right to be.
I’m torn between needing to defend Miles, to protect the future he’s worked hard for, and raging at my parents for their blatant, disgusting homophobic comments.
Chloe, looking more annoyed than I’ve seen her in a long time, shifts her glare from one side of the table to the other, staring at our parents in disgust. “You’re giving very religious answers for a family that doesn’t go to church,” she adds, somewhat unhelpfully.
Mother straightens her shoulders and lifts her nose into the air, looking even more haughty than I thought was possible. “We may not be actively religious, but we were all christened, and we know what a sinner looks like. This is one rule you don’t have to be religious to follow.”
The conversation seems to be snowballing quicker than I can keep up with, and I’m very aware that if I don’t regain control, Miles’ future may be in jeopardy.
As casually as I can make my voice sound, I say, “This whole conversation is irrelevant. Miles is not gay. He’s had girlfriendsin the past, and is probably just waiting to ask the right girl to prom.”
I stare at my sister, hoping she can read my expression clearly enough to hear what I’m trying to tell her.Please don’t argue with me on this one, just let it go.
Although she doesn’t look happy about it, she gives me a slight nod and keeps quiet.
“You should be doing the same. Finding the right girl to ask,” Mother points out, and I breathe a sigh of relief that we’re back on safer ground.
Father nods, agreeing with her. “It’s true. It won’t be long until you take over as my heir. With that comes responsibilities you cannot avoid. You will need to get a wife and have an heir of your own to secure the future of this family.”
Fuck! I didn’t think this conversation could get any worse, but it just did.
Although I nod and agree with my father, putting on a front as I simply go along with everything he says, on the inside, panic is setting in. It feels like the walls are closing in around me, as the ticking of the clock hanging over my head gets louder and more daunting, making me feel claustrophobic in my own body.
Thoughts of a future I don’t want, and the horrible things my parents said about Miles, when they thought he liked men, rattle around my head, deafening me as the pounding of my heart rings in my ears.
I play along with my family, hoping they don’t suspect that I’m no longer mentally present, just biding my time until they say I can leave the table. As soon as the meal is over, I dash to my room, slamming the door closed. I wince as the loud noise adds to the screaming in my head, and I throw myself onto my bed, covering my head with a pillow.
It does nothing to quieten the noises or dull the panic. I throw the pillow to one side and sit up, looking franticallyaround my room, even though I’m not sure what it is I’m trying to find.
I see a bottle of vodka sat on the side, next to the present bag I had intended to put it in. It’s Maximus’ birthday soon, and I always gift him some form of good alcohol, but as I eye up the clear liquid, I know my need is greater than his.
Without hesitating, I stride across the room and grab the vodka. Once the lid’s off, I waste no time bringing it up to my lips, taking a gulp straight from the bottle. It burns as it slides down my throat, sitting heavily in my already delicate stomach, but I ignore that and take another mouthful.
With each gulp, a different thought leaves my brain.My sinful feelings for Miles, my parents homophobic comments, the pressure of finding a date for prom, the expectations I have to live up to in the future, the wife I have to marry, the kids I have to raise…These thoughts leave me with each burn of vodka sliding down my throat.
I try to embrace the silence, to focus on the relaxing, empty sensation the alcohol is coating me in, but some of my thoughts are too stubborn. I consider suitable girls that I could invite to prom, thinking that’s a fairly safe subject, but fuck was I wrong.
All I can picture is the hurt on Miles’ face when I tell him I’ve got a date, instead of going with him. My heart aches as I imagine how broken he’ll look, and how mad he’ll be.
So I do the only thing I can to get rid of those images… I drink. I keep drinking until my mind is blank, and the whole world goes black.
After meeting Jake a few times for coffee or food after work, I finally agreed to spend the whole afternoon with him on my day off. He’s been asking me for days, telling me I need to have some fun, and it’s hard to refuse his infectious happiness.
Jake is one of those people that you can’t help but like. He’s smiley and happy and always has far too much energy. But after spending time with him over the last couple of weeks, I know there’s another side to him that he fights against every day.
It was probably our second time getting coffee when he told me about his addiction, and the low point he’d reached in his life, prior to going into rehab. Even though he told me quite soon, I got the feeling he was opening up to show me I can trust him.